Only Slightly Pretentious Food

Recipe: Risotto with prawns and asparagus

2009-11-10T13:12:00.012+08:00

I am, as the Chinese have a habit of saying, a fan tong (rice bucket). Rice is probably my favourite carbohydrate, and at least one meal of the day has to have rice in it, otherwise I'll feel ill. Some people, however, despite liking rice, are not fond of risotto, usually because they don't think it's real rice. This puzzles me, as the same people are usually more than happy to eat both noodles and pasta. In any case, despite my liking for the substance, I've never actually cooked risotto before, usually because it requires slaving away over a hot stove, and the chances of landing up with overcooked sludge seem very high.

Due to a friend (who is not as helpless a cook as he claims) going on and on about his midnight risotto-making, however, tempted me into cooking risotto for lunch this afternoon. After a few references to Bill Granger, Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay's cookbooks, I decided all risotto recipes were basically the same, and didn't look that difficult.

Ingredients (Serves 1)

500ml chicken stock
1 glass (200ml) of white wine
100g risotto (I used Carnaroli)
Olive oil
1 stick (25g) of butter
1/4 onion, finely chopped
2 or 3 cloves garlic, finely minced
20g parmeggiano-reggiano
1/2 chilli, finely chopped
1/2 lemon
5 asparagus spears (more or less depending on taste)
5 medium-sized prawns, peeled (more or less depending on taste)
Parsley, to garnish

1. In a saucepan, bring the chicken stock to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer, so that your risotto doesn't cool drastically when you add the stock.

2. In a separate saucepan, lightly pan-fry your chilli, prawns and asparagus with the garlic in some olive oil until they are just cooked, then remove them and keep warm.

3. In the same saucepan, heat the olive oil and half the butter. Once the butter has stopped foaming, add the chopped onions, and cook till they have softened, but not browned.

4. Add the rice, letting the oil and butter coat the grains with a film of fat. Make sure your onions do not burn.

5. Pour in the white wine, which should sizzle satisfyingly as the alcohol cooks off. The wine will be absorbed quite quickly by the rice as you stir it.

6. Once the wine has been absorbed, add a ladle of hot stock to the rice. Stir the rice continuously on low heat to allow the starches to be released.

7. Once the stock has been absorbed, add another ladle of hot stock, and stir continuously over low heat.

8. Repeat this process, adding a new ladle of hot stock once the previous ladleful has been fully absorbed. It takes about 20 minutes before the rice becomes rich and creamy, so you should keep tasting as you go. You'll know when you're getting close, as by the fourth or fifth ladle the absorption rate of the rice falls dramatically, stirring requires much more effort, and the individual grains seem to merge into one another. What you're aiming for is a soft, creamy texture, and a "give" (not a crunch) when you bite into a grain.

9. Once the rice is cooked (but remains al dente), take it off the heat, add in the cheese and butter to enrich the risotto, and let it rest for two minutes to let the flavours develop.

10. Meanwhile warm your prawns and asparagus back up (in the empty saucepan that used to hold your stock), and squeeze a liberal amount of lemon juice over them.

11. Plate up by stacking the prawns atop the asparagus, and garnish with some roughly-chopped parsley.

NYT article on service

2009-11-10T11:00:00.001+08:00

51. If there is a service charge, alert your guests when you present the bill. It’s not a secret or a trick.

52. Know your menu inside and out. If you serve Balsam Farm candy-striped beets, know something about Balsam Farm and candy-striped beets.

53. Do not let guests double-order unintentionally; remind the guest who orders ratatouille that zucchini comes with the entree.

54. If there is a prix fixe, let guests know about it. Do not force anyone to ask for the “special” menu.

55. Do not serve an amuse-bouche without detailing the ingredients. Allergies are a serious matter; peanut oil can kill. (This would also be a good time to ask if anyone has any allergies.)

56. Do not ignore a table because it is not your table. Stop, look, listen, lend a hand. (Whether tips are pooled or not.)

57. Bring the pepper mill with the appetizer. Do not make people wait or beg for a condiment.

58. Do not bring judgment with the ketchup. Or mustard. Or hot sauce. Or whatever condiment is requested.

59. Do not leave place settings that are not being used.

60. Bring all the appetizers at the same time, or do not bring the appetizers. Same with entrees and desserts.

61. Do not stand behind someone who is ordering. Make eye contact. Thank him or her.

62. Do not fill the water glass every two minutes, or after each sip. You’ll make people nervous.

62(a). Do not let a glass sit empty for too long.

63. Never blame the chef or the busboy or the hostess or the weather for anything that goes wrong. Just make it right.

64. Specials, spoken and printed, should always have prices.

65. Always remove used silverware and replace it with new.

66. Do not return to the guest anything that falls on the floor — be it napkin, spoon, menu or soy sauce.

67. Never stack the plates on the table. They make a racket. Shhhhhh.

68. Do not reach across one guest to serve another.

69. If a guest is having trouble making a decision, help out. If someone wants to know your life story, keep it short. If someone wants to meet the chef, make an effort.

70. Never deliver a hot plate without warning the guest. And never ask a guest to pass along that hot plate.

71. Do not race around the dining room as if there is a fire in the kitchen or a medical emergency. (Unless there is a fire in the kitchen or a medical emergency.)

72. Do not serve salad on a freezing cold plate; it usually advertises the fact that it has not been freshly prepared.

73. Do not bring soup without a spoon. Few things are more frustrating than a bowl of hot soup with no spoon.

74. Let the guests know the restaurant is out of something before the guests read the menu and order the missing dish.

75. Do not ask if someone is finished when others are still eating that course.

76. Do not ask if a guest is finished the very second the guest is finished. Let guests digest, savor, reflect.

77. Do not disappear.

78. Do not ask, “Are you still working on that?” Dining is not work — until questions like this are asked.

79. When someone orders a drink “straight up,” determine if he wants it “neat” — right out of the bottle — or chilled. Up is up, but “straight up” is debatable.

80. Never insist that a guest settle up at the bar before sitting down; transfer the tab.

81. Know what the bar has in stock before each meal.

82. If you drip or spill something, clean it up, replace it, offer to pay for whatever damage you may have caused. Refrain from touching the wet spots on the guest.

83. Ask if your guest wants his coffee with dessert or after. Same with an after-dinner drink.

84. Do not refill a coffee cup compulsively. Ask if the guest desires a refill.

84(a). Do not let an empty coffee cup sit too long before asking if a refill is desired.

85. Never bring a check until someone asks for it. Then give it to the person who asked for it.

86. If a few people signal for the check, find a neutral place on the table to leave it.

87. Do not stop your excellent service after the check is presented or paid.

88. Do not ask if a guest needs change. Just bring the change.

89. Never patronize a guest who has a complaint or suggestion; listen, take it seriously, address it.

90. If someone is getting agitated or effusive on a cellphone, politely suggest he keep it down or move away from other guests.

91. If someone complains about the music, do something about it, without upsetting the ambiance. (The music is not for the staff — it’s for the customers.)

92. Never play a radio station with commercials or news or talking of any kind.

93. Do not play brass — no brassy Broadway songs, brass bands, marching bands, or big bands that feature brass, except a muted flugelhorn.

94. Do not play an entire CD of any artist. If someone doesn’t like Frightened Rabbit or Michael Bublé, you have just ruined a meal.

95. Never hover long enough to make people feel they are being watched or hurried, especially when they are figuring out the tip or signing for the check.

96. Do not say anything after a tip — be it good, bad, indifferent — except, “Thank you very much.”

97. If a guest goes gaga over a particular dish, get the recipe for him or her.

98. Do not wear too much makeup or jewelry. You know you have too much jewelry when it jingles and/or draws comments.

99. Do not show frustration. Your only mission is to serve. Be patient. It is not easy.

100. Guests, like servers, come in all packages. Show a “good table” your appreciation with a free glass of port, a plate of biscotti or something else management approves.

Bonus Track: As Bill Gates has said, “Your most unhappy customers are your greatest source of learning.” (Of course, Microsoft is one of the most litigious companies in history, so one can take Mr. Gates’s counsel with a grain of salt. Gray sea salt is a nice addition to any table.)

NYT on a roll...

2009-10-31T21:39:00.004+08:00

Two great articles on food and food-related topics by the NYT this week. Almost makes up for the markets!

This is their 1-50 list of things that restaurant staffers/waiters should never say or do (with comments from Colin). I have a couple to add from the Singaporean context (which have actually been said to me), for example, you should never say, when asked for cutlery, "we are washing them as fast as we can!"

1. Do not let anyone enter the restaurant without a warm greeting.

2. Do not make a singleton feel bad. Do not say, “Are you waiting for someone?” Ask for a reservation. Ask if he or she would like to sit at the bar.

3. Never refuse to seat three guests because a fourth has not yet arrived.

4. If a table is not ready within a reasonable length of time, offer a free drink and/or amuse-bouche. The guests may be tired and hungry and thirsty, and they did everything right.
[Colin: Singaporean waitstaff are not generally guilty of the first three, but neither do they exhibit the initiative required for #4, which would definitely win guests over]

5. Tables should be level without anyone asking. Fix it before guests are seated.
[Colin: I personally hate wobbly tables. It makes a guy look bad in front of his date. What is so difficult about making tables non-wobbly?]

6. Do not lead the witness with, “Bottled water or just tap?” Both are fine. Remain neutral.
[Colin: Another irritation, which other bloggers have gone to great lengths to identify, is restaurants which don't believe in serving tap water. You run an eatery, not a palace.]

7. Do not announce your name. No jokes, no flirting, no cuteness.

8. Do not interrupt a conversation. For any reason. Especially not to recite specials. Wait for the right moment.
[Colin: I find that waitstaff, even well-trained ones, do this a lot. It is extremely rude and aggravating.]

9. Do not recite the specials too fast or robotically or dramatically. It is not a soliloquy. This is not an audition.
[Colin: Waitstaff far too often mumble out a rehearsed list so rapidly you'd think they were trying for an award.]

10. Do not inject your personal favorites when explaining the specials.
[Colin: Actually I think this is fine - it adds some personality to the presentation.]

11. Do not hustle the lobsters. That is, do not say, “We only have two lobsters left.” Even if there are only two lobsters left.

12. Do not touch the rim of a water glass. Or any other glass.

13. Handle wine glasses by their stems and silverware by the handles.

14. When you ask, “How’s everything?” or “How was the meal?” listen to the answer and fix whatever is not right.

15. Never say “I don’t know” to any question without following with, “I’ll find out.”

16. If someone requests more sauce or gravy or cheese, bring a side dish of same. No pouring. Let them help themselves.

17. Do not take an empty plate from one guest while others are still eating the same course. Wait, wait, wait.

18. Know before approaching a table who has ordered what. Do not ask, “Who’s having the shrimp?”
[Colin: Very few restaurants I've been to have been able to display this level of training.]

19. Offer guests butter and/or olive oil with their bread.

20. Never refuse to substitute one vegetable for another.

21. Never serve anything that looks creepy or runny or wrong.

22. If someone is unsure about a wine choice, help him. That might mean sending someone else to the table or offering a taste or two.

23. If someone likes a wine, steam the label off the bottle and give it to the guest with the bill. It has the year, the vintner, the importer, etc.

24. Never use the same glass for a second drink.

25. Make sure the glasses are clean. Inspect them before placing them on the table.

26. Never assume people want their white wine in an ice bucket. Inquire.

27. For red wine, ask if the guests want to pour their own or prefer the waiter to pour.

28. Do not put your hands all over the spout of a wine bottle while removing the cork.

29. Do not pop a champagne cork. Remove it quietly, gracefully. The less noise the better.

30. Never let the wine bottle touch the glass into which you are pouring. No one wants to drink the dust or dirt from the bottle.

31. Never remove a plate full of food without asking what went wrong. Obviously, something went wrong.

32. Never touch a customer. No excuses. Do not do it. Do not brush them, move them, wipe them or dust them.

33. Do not bang into chairs or tables when passing by.

34. Do not have a personal conversation with another server within earshot of customers.

35. Do not eat or drink in plain view of guests.

36. Never reek from perfume or cigarettes. People want to smell the food and beverage.

37. Do not drink alcohol on the job, even if invited by the guests. “Not when I’m on duty” will suffice.

38. Do not call a guy a “dude”.

39. Do not call a woman “lady”.

40. Never say, “Good choice,” implying that other choices are bad.
[Colin: Personally I think this can be done with humour or irony.]

41. Saying, “No problem” is a problem. It has a tone of insincerity or sarcasm. “My pleasure” or “You’re welcome” will do.

42. Do not compliment a guest’s attire or hairdo or makeup. You are insulting someone else.
[Colin: Again, depends on how you pull it off.]

43. Never mention what your favorite dessert is. It’s irrelevant.

44. Do not discuss your own eating habits, be you vegan or lactose intolerant or diabetic.

45. Do not curse, no matter how young or hip the guests.

46. Never acknowledge any one guest over and above any other. All guests are equal.

47. Do not gossip about co-workers or guests within earshot of guests.

48. Do not ask what someone is eating or drinking when they ask for more; remember or consult the order.

49. Never mention the tip, unless asked.

50. Do not turn on the charm when it’s tip time. Be consistent throughout.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

2009-10-26T17:25:00.005+08:00

Just in case anyone has been looking for presents for their favourite blogger-friend (cough, cough), I was looking through Amazon myself today and came across these brilliant books! Of course, I am the main proponent of, "who needs cookbooks when you have the web" and "too many cookbooks = too much cobwebs" but I was definitely seduced by this promising selection and hope you will like them too.

The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts, by the International Culinary Center and Judith Choate ($27.75USD)

This sounds like something I could really learn from, a wealth of insider tricks and an indispensable addition to any serious home baker’s library, The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts covers the many skills an aspiring pastry chef must master. Based on the internationally lauded curriculum developed by master pâtissier Jacques Torres for New York’s French Culinary Institute, the book presents chapters on every classic category of confection: tarts, cream puffs, puff pastry, creams and custards, breads and pastries, cakes, and petits fours. Each chapter begins with an overview of the required techniques, followed by dozens of recipes—many the original creations of distinguished FCI graduates.

The Patisseries of Paris: Chocolatiers, Tea Salons, Ice Cream Parlors, and more, by
Jamie Cahill (USD$11.53)

This charming book profiles almost 100 of the best patisseries, chocolate shops, tea salons, ice cream parlors and other sweet spots in Paris. Author Jamie Cahill also includes the best picnic spots and offers several lovely sidebars: a profile of a chocolate buyer for a fashionable gourmet store, a behind-the-scenes look at the daily goings-on in a patisserie kitchen and the history of three crucial items in the French kitchen. Cahill also mentions other useful tips, including brief descriptions of the various types of creams and cream fillings that form the foundation of French pastries.

If you're planning to go to Paris anytime, it would be great to read this book and if you're not, then you have to get it, it looks so beautiful you could read it anytime of the year!

Momofuko, David Chang and Peter Meehan ($26.29USD)

You would think it's funny to buy an Asian cookbook but if the breathless hype is true and his food is as good and as exciting as everyone says it is, it would be worth it. We might not be able to eat at his restaurant but from what I've read, I'm already a fan of scary-smart, funny, and ambitious, the wildly creative Chang.

The reviews do say that the recipes are impractically long and complex, though the ginger-scallion ramen recipe I read on the net sounded absolutely delicious.

Organic and Chic: Cakes, Cookies, and Other Sweets That Taste as Good as They Look, by Sarah Magid ($18.47USD)

In 60 recipes, Magid offers up specific, easy to follow recipes for crowd-pleasers like oatmeal raisin cookies and flourless chocolate almond cake, as well as homemade variations on childhood all-stars like Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies and Hostess Sno-balls. Grown-ups will swoon over her Lovely Lemon Cake with marshmallow frosting, Minty Strawberry Shortcakes and her Chocolate Love Blossom-a multilayer chocolate cake filled with vanilla whipped cream and/or a red currant curd, and covered with a rich ganache. Though the titles may sound ambitious, most recipes are more than manageable.

The photos from this book look gorgeous and I like the idea of making good-for-you also good-to-look-at and good-to-eat. I also definitely think organic, high-quality baking is where the future of dessert lies.

I love Macarons, by Hisako Ogita ($10.08USD)

Cute-as-can-be, buttery macarons capture the whimsy and elegance of Paris, where they're traditionally served with tea or wrapped up in ribbon to give as a gift. But the secrets of making perfect macarons have long eluded home bakers until now, in I Love Macarons, renowned Japanese pastry-maker Hisako Ogita brings her extensive experience to the art of baking macarons with fully illustrated foolproof step-by-step instructions. This book looks really charming, I'm not sure anyone can fully explain macarons, nor that you can learn it out of a book, nor even that I have the patience to try new and possibly unsuccessful variations of recipes but I would sure like to have a look!

The Fat Duck Cookbook, Heston Blumenthal ($31.50USD)

The cookbook was hailed by the Los Angeles Times as a “showstopper” and by Jeffrey Steingarten of Vogue as “the most glorious spectacle of the season…like no other book I have seen in the past twenty years”. This lavishly illustrated, stunningly designed, and gorgeously photographed masterpiece takes you inside the head of maverick restaurateur Heston Blumenthal. Separated into three sections (History; Recipes; Science), the book chronicles Blumenthal’s improbable rise to fame and, for the first time, offers a mouth-watering and eye-popping selection of recipes from his award-winning restaurant. He also explains the science behind his culinary masterpieces, the technology and implements that make his alchemical dishes come to life. I don't suppose any of these recipes would be easy to recreate but maybe one could learn a trick or two from the master.

Rose's Heavenly Cakes, by Rose Levy Beranbaum ($26.37USD)

From the author of the standard classic, the Cake Bible, this is a large, heavy, detailed book of cakes, cupcakes, bars, baby-size cakes with excellent photography, all printed on heavy, high-end paper and with volumes listed next to it, then the weights of each ingredient, in both American and Metric form. Almost every cake is photographed, which I know many people find important in choosing a cook book. It sounds accessible, useful and delicious.

Worst Dining Trends of the Decade

2009-10-26T10:07:00.003+08:00

Food has become such an icon these days: we place it high atop a pedestal of organic, locally-grown, grass-fed, extra virgin, cold-pressed, single estate offerings, and we worship it and flaunt it ostentatiously, the latest restaurant or dining experience worn like a diamond choker.

Restaurants, the high priests of this new religion, certainly do their part to observe the solemn rituals, making us, the willing acolytes, believe that we absolutely, for our spiritual welfare, must have the catch of the day.

It's about time someone held up a mirror to this silliness, exposing the aggrandisement and blandishments to the searing light of truth. You should think about it too: what do you consider to be the worst dining trends of the decade?

Black Coffee, anyone?

2009-10-20T13:17:00.014+08:00

I am partial to a good coffee, although I don't drink it often: when presented with the opportunity to have a rich, strong yet creamy cappuccino or latte, I can never resist. I've been very fortunate that in my travels, whether to San Francisco, Rome or Sydney, I've had many opportunities to sample and appreciate some really great coffees.

That's partly why I always cringe when my Australian cousins visit town and ask, with a knowingly significant emphasis, "where can I get a good coffee"? The reality is, we haven't many that I could point them to. Until a few years ago, I'd have said, we haven't any, but luckily that landscape has changed.

Black Coffee Dessert Bar is definitely on top of my shortlist (literally) when considering truly independent, quality-driven and best of all, local entreprenuers who are changing the way that Singaporeans experience western-style coffee and it's really about time. After all, we've all had bad coffees, the bitter, migraine-inducing New Jersey diner coffeepot-on-a-hot-plate type stuff that just wasn't worth the caffeine boost.

In fact, Singapore has been engulfed by chains like Gloria Jeans, Tully's and Coffee Club (or whatever they call themselves next), largely I suspect because of the goldmine Starbucks got everyone believing in, about the same time that they convinced everyone that a cup of coffee-au-lait should cost in excess of $5. So in a sense, it's no wonder that a good caffeine hit has been both an elusive and confusing experience for the average consumer.

It's also, in part, a result of Singapore'a corporate coffee culture, the fact that a coffee has become a codeword for an unneccessary meeting and the coffee itself, a convenient drink to supplement a short but heavy lunch. In reality, a good coffee should taste like a marriage of a rich, delicious flavour coupled with a full body and a luxurious mouthfeel, and the coffee experience should be one of enjoyment and contemplation, the same ingredients needed to make a good one.

This is because a good coffee is a complex romance, starting with the high altitude, moderate climate, abundant rainfall and volcanic soils that produce some of the world's finest gourmet coffees in places like Guatemala, Hawaii and Columbia, then continued through the legacy of farmers who grow, pick and market the beans and actualized through the passion of qualified baristas who roast and percolate them to the right acidity and tease out fresh milk foam into imaginative "latte-art" patterns. It takes a pretty global village.

The founders of Black, whom I know from school, have clearly not just done their research into the complex art of coffee making but also into the kind of atmosphere where you can enjoy your daily dose. Tony, the barista, gives me a quick lesson in how to get the best brew- their beans are ground fresh to order for every single cup and the same with the milk, poured and steamed for each cup. The remaining milk is thrown away so that each cup gets fresh milk- this gets a huge thumbs up for quality and service- I doubt any other joint in Singapore is as careful and passionate.

The cafe itself is just as meticulous- the staff are friendly, the signage clever and the vintage furnishings and music were specifically chosen for a hip, yet informal setting, which is a great change from the Raffles Place area, where it is located toward the back of Chevron House, a stone's throw away from the MRT.

Black, which prides itself on being a coffee and dessert bar, serves a variety of other beverages, such as a selection of teas, iced and authentic Italian hot chocolate and fruit mixes. Black also serves dessert and alcohol over the day (if you're lucky, there will be warm slices of luxurious home-made Valronha chocolate bananana bread - they are wonderful) but it is in the evenings when it becomes a venue for music sessions and parties. With little publicity and within a mere few months of its opening, Black went on to win a mention as one of the "Top five bars, restaurants, coffee shops" in The Monocle Singapore Survey 2009, probably a testament to the appreciation of its rare product and standards.

Black Coffee Dessert Bar
16 Collyer Quay #01-11/12 Hitachi Tower
Monday to Friday 7am-8pm
+65 65344220
www.thisisblack.com.sg

Strawberry Jelly Hearts

2009-10-18T01:03:00.009+08:00

In Singapore, there is this cake-dessert, which is colloquially referred to as "Strawberry Jelly Heart". What it really is, is layered cheesecake squares, topped with heart-shaped strawberry pieces, encased in strawberry jelly. These trays of layered cheesecake are sold in slim boxes, usually by some home-baker, and have gained popularity over last few years.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before classes were offered and in reality, the core of the recipe is a simple one of a no-bake cheesecake. In fact, I'm not a huge fan of the combination of jelly and cheesecake and so I have never really pursued either the product nor the teaching.

However, I seem to be in the minority. When I announced I was going to make these, both my mother and Z. were really pleased. What I learned, is that while this recipe is simple, the assembly presents some engineering problems that I didn't quite expect to encounter.

Recipe:

320g digestive biscuits, crushed finely
140g butter, melted

1 box (250g) Philadelphia Cream Cheese
1 tsp vanilla essence
50g white sugar
10g gelatin powder
1/2 cup hot water
20 strawberries, sliced and stamped into shapes

2 packs of Tortally strawberry-flavoured jelly
300ml hot water
300ml cold water

The first part of preparing the base is simplicity itself. Crush 320g of digestive biscuits, melt 140g butter in the microwave, or in a saucepan and mix them together. Some people tell you to mash the biscuits with a mortar and pestle but I find the easiest way is to place them in a clear plastic bag and then steamroll them with a rolling pin. You can pick up a fruit bag from the supermarket for this purpose.

The finer the biscuits are crushed and the more butter you use, the easier the resultant mixture will be to press into a pan. There's a balance between not wanting to add more butter than is necessary and the ease of working with a stickier mixture - too dry and you wind up having a very flaky and uncooperative base.

The way to line the base of the pan is to choose a suitable size (in this case, I used a 24 by 24cm baking pan) and line it with aluminium foil. After your cheesecake is done, the foil makes it easier to lift the whole thing out of the pan. Press the foil neatly into the corners of the pan and over the outer edges. Similarly, press the biscuit mix neatly into the base of the pan.

This is the part that the kids can help with - using the back of a spoon, it's fairly quick and easy to get the biscuit crust even and smooth. Chill the mixture for at least 15 minutes (I like to put my crust in the freezer rather than the fridge because it's quicker) and when you take it out, prick the surface at regular intervals with a toothpick.

Before you even start on any of the liquid mixtures, I would suggest putting the kettle on for a fairly large quantity of hot, boiling water, as it is called for twice in the recipe. While it is boiling, cream one pack of Philadelphia Cream Cheese (250g) and 1 tsp of vanilla essence together in an eggbeater and start to fashion your strawberry hearts.

The strawberry hearts themselves actually presented the largest challenge. Only the exterior of the strawberries are used to stamp out the shapes, so there is quite a lot of wastage. The recipes I read tell you to slice the strawberries in half, then stamp out the shapes with a 1 inch heart-shaped cookie cutter. I found it a lot more effective to core out the strawberry, the way that a sushi chef does with cucumber. By cutting around the strawberry, the outer seeded part was all the roughly the same thickness (as opposed to just cutting the strawberry in half, which produces pieces that have varying thickness).

There were a few problems with my strawberries. The first was that the supermarket did not present much choice - either I could pay $8 for Driscoll strawberries from the US, or $3.45 for a smaller pack of unbranded but fresher Australian strawberries. I don't think it makes much difference, except that you should try to get strawberries that are slightly unripened. Mine were very ripe and you can see from the picture that they look a little too dark red.

The second part is the stamping. I didn't have a 1 inch heart shaped cutter. What I did have was a drawer-ful of random shapes, left over from our nanny, who liked to use them to make cute little carrot and turnip shapes for stir-fry or garnishing. I was able, for example, to make an entire suite of card-themed shapes from club and spade-shaped cutters. The only heart cutter was but 1 cm long and in the end, I wound up using a flower shape which was the right size. If you use a smaller sized cutter, trust me, you'll be stamping for an uneccesarily long time.

Even so, I found that strawberries don't stamp easily. They can be fairly thick and these ripe ones especially, were turning quite soft. More often than not, I found myself using a knife and slicing off uneven ends that straggled on the cutting edge. I guess this is one more reason to use less ripe strawberries and also, to remember to place your strawberries, after stamping, on kitchen paper, so that the mushy inner, pulpy side dries up.

It was probably at this point that I stopped envying all the home-bakers who made strawberry jelly hearts for sale. It's not as easy as it looks, I thought silently, with my hands dripping in messy strawberry juice and fibres.

At some point, the water in the kettle would have started to boil. Take a rest from the strawberries and in a medium-sized bowl, spoon out 50g of sugar and 10g of gelatin powder. Pour 1/2 a cup of your boiling water into the bowl and stir quickly to dissolve the gelatin powder and sugar. When it is cool, pour the gelatin water into the cream cheese mixture and continue to beat till smooth. This, essentially, is the cheesecake mix. Spoon into the biscuit crust, smoothen the top and pop it back in the fridge for 20 minutes. Warning, the cheesecake mix is slightly liquidy and discoloured looking, which might cause some concern but relax, this is normal.

The other thing to do now is to dilute 2 packets of strawberry-flavoured Tortally jelly in 300ml of hot water and 300ml of cold water (I used water from the fridge, made especially cold). Then, you can either stir the mixture till it cools or put it in the fridge for 15 minutes (but stir occasionally to make sure it doesn't set and harden).

Retrieve your tray of cheesecake from the fridge and press the strawberry hearts into the cheese at regular intervals. Envision cutting the tray into squares at the end of it and that will give you some idea of how far apart to space the hearts. You do have to push them a little into the cheese, otherwise, as I discovered, they tend to float up when you add the liquid jelly. When the liquid jelly has cooled (and hopefully, remained liquid), pour the jelly over the cheese layer, spooning it gently, so as not to dislodge anything. Then, place the whole tray back in the fridge for 2-4 hours.

Just to be safe, I waited till the next day to unwrap my jelly hearts and upon pulling the tray out of the fridge, I was quite pleased at both the depth and the consistency of the jelly layer. Gripping the aluminium foil firmly with both hands, pull/lift the tray of cheesecake entirely out of the pan and onto a flat surface. If you try to cut the cheesecake jelly inside the pan, you will wind up with rather crooked lines and messy edges (witness my prototypes).

What I learnt from this recipe is that even though the process is simple and no-bake, presentation is everything. These small steps, details like covering the tray base and sides properly with aluminium foil, spacing the strawberry hearts evenly, lifting the cheesecake out to slice on a flat surface and wiping the knife between each cut, are all essential to getting a product that looks respectably-made rather than crudely fashioned.

I got many positive comments on my strawberry jelly hearts so that is proof that you can score a success on the first attempt with this recipe. Have fun!

Food Opera at ION

2009-10-09T10:56:00.000+08:00

Some weeks ago, the PR company for Food Opera at the Orchard ION gave us a call and invited a group of bloggers to sample their new outlet and its offerings. While joking that this was quite far from our usual concept of posh-nosh, we were intrigued to see how this idea of a "high-end" food court would play out.

On that day, we were shown to a private table within the food court but also given a tour of the premises, which included many esoteric animal sculptures owned by Dr George Quek, Chairman of the BreadTalk Group, who is behind this new venture. The idea of a "Food Opera" was to showcase the artistry of enterprising hawkers and to suggest an elegant ambience with unconventional furnishings and decor, like acrylic chairs, chandeliers and oversized picture frames.

Food Opera has 26 stalls (4 of these are mini-restaurants) chosen for their authentic cooking and long history. It is affiliated to Food Reupublic, Bread Talk, Din Tai Fung and Toast Box (isn't it amazing how large his empire has grown?)

The first dish that was brought to the table was a plate of abacus yam from Mei Zhen Hakka Delights. My mother is Hakka and I've inherited very little appreciation for the cuisine, so it surprised me that I actually thought this dish very flavourful and nuanced.

The second dish was Fatty Weng's Fried Oyster Omelettes. The oyster omelette of course, is a perennial favourite and this one even had some wok hei but as with most oyster omelettes, it started to cool and congeal quickly.

The third dish was the smoked duck from Guan Chee Roasted Meats. This dish of sliced duck was so pink, succulent and moist, it looked almost like a plate of undercooked char siew, rather than duck. True to the image of "Food Opera", the plate of duck meat comes embellished with decorative flowers and garnishes.

The stall also does other roast meats like roast pork crackling, which was good and char siew, which was not quite so good (tinted red and somewhat overflavoured in rose syrup).

My favourite dish was Li Xin Chao Zhou Fish Ball Noodles. The fish balls are large and bouncy, yet light and effortlessly smooth- having been hand-shaped from fresh ground Yellow Tail, the taste is clean, without a fishy after-taste, even and sweet. These are the largest fishballs I've seen, and the unanimous opinion was that they are also some of the finest fishballs we'd ever tasted. The stall is quite an interesting one to peer into because you can see their whole process of shaping, chilling and cooking the fish balls.

My second favourite is the red wine hor fun, from Ah Wok's restaurant: this was well fried, with a well-balanced flavour. It's a great dish to order because people do a double take when they first hear the mention of "red wine" in the same sentence as "seafood hor fun". Oddly enough, however, the combination works brilliantly, as the red wine, when exposed to the searing heat of the wok, quickly reduces to a jus that coats and enhances the umami of the seafood. This mini-restaurant within Food Opera sells zi char and is one of the places that you can get a larger table for a proper sit-down meal.

The other dishes fed to us were the Hainanese Curry Pork Chop with Chap Chye, a sambal kang kong, an assortment of tofu and the Ayam Goreng Bumbu from Padang Padang and they were all pretty good.

One dish that we were split on was Ah Wok's crispy duck, some people did like it but for me, it was too thin and dry.

Lastly, we sampled the Chendol and the Gula Melaka Avocado from the Ice Shop (No. 7). I didn't like the Gula Melaka Avocado, the avocado content wasn't high enough and the whole thing tasted reminiscently of soyabean. The chendol on the other hand, was probably one of the best I've had in Singapore, with a powerful punch of coconut milk. It was a pity that the jelly strips were not home-made and had a tinted kelly green, rather than a faded pandan green colour to them but all in all, it was very satisfying.

There were many other stalls that we didn't get to try- the 3rd Generation Laksa and Prawn Noodles, the Balestier Bak Kut Teh and the SGKuehKueh stall, an offshoot of the famous stall in Amoy Street. There is definitely reason, thus, to go back to Food Opera- while I don't know if Singaporeans would pay the premium in prices, just because you get to eat on proper ceramic crockery (as opposed to melamite ones), this place is packed out almost everyday, which goes to show, good food and a good location, is definitely the key to success.

Review: District 10

2009-09-10T21:27:00.009+08:00

I've noticed an interesting trend lately: old schools that have been sitting idle are being revamped and transformed into offices, usually with a flagship restaurant displayed prominently out front. La Villa where River Valley High used to be, Chalk at Old School, and the latest is District 10, which is located at (or in) the old Monk's Hill Secondary School.

Despite the lack of publicity (though there has been a review in the papers since I wrote this), District 10 is enjoying booming business, due mainly to a combination of location (near Newton Circus, ample carpark), cost (affordable food), and food (large portions and hearty food).

I suppose it doesn't hurt that they also have a large expanse of space in which to accommodate their patrons, both indoors and out. The outdoor area is actually quite a nice place to sit and enjoy a post-dinner prandial - the multiple standing fans ensure that you're never too warm, though I suppose that also depends on your circulatory system.

The mussels are not a regularly starter, or at least they weren't at the time. Sweet and tender, I thought they could have done with a little more white wine, but otherwise a very forgiving dish that usually goes down well.

The salmon pate is surprisingly delicious, given that I'm not usually a fan of fish. But the pate is served cold, and the refreshing, creamy, briny paste, is irresistible when paired with a crunchy, bite-sized croute.

The duck spring rolls tasted like spring rolls, and what caught my attention was not so much the spring roll but the salad, which featured sliced starfruit, not an ingredient one often sees in salads, but one which I think has much potential. Clean, juicy and slightly acidic, perfect.

District 10's menu consists mainly of straightforward, simple dishes like burgers, and pastas. The ribs are apparently a house specialty, slathered with grain mustard and enormous: rustic, "stick to your guts" food. Tender and filling, the ribs can easily be shared by two people, making them even more affordable.

My sister had the lasagne, which she said was quite enjoyable, though I did not attempt to verify this. It was probably a good thing she did not order her original choice, the duck confit, which, when a friend ordered it, turned out to be somewhat flaccid, lacking the crispy skin I am more accustomed to.

Desserts are a bit disappointing, though District 10 is not really a dessert place. Each time I've been here I've tended to order a chocolate gelato, which is not bad, but isn't spectacular either.

District 10 is a pleasant, laidback bistro that is affordable and large enough to accommodate big groups, with simple comfort food that should appeal to everyone. The menu is not particularly extensive, however, though it has been reported that they are planning on expanding their menu.

District 10
#01-17, 10 Winstedt Road
Tel: +65 6738 4788

Chocolate Banana Cupcakes

2009-08-29T22:03:00.004+08:00

These were my little minions for an office tea to celebrate the anniversary of a colleague and the almost-end to a tough work period. The base was a chocolatey, chunky chocolate banana cake and I beat some buttercream for frosting.

Now that I have discovered Italian buttercream (as opposed to Swiss Meringue buttercream, do you know the difference?) and since discovering that buttercream is actually not meant to be yellow, I've been icing everything white. I'm developing a white fetish (how wrong that sounds) for cakes because I know I can make bright white frosting. This is after I spent 3 years believing that buttercream was inherently yellow (it isn't, I just wasn't making it with French butter cos you know, heck, French butter is expensive) and thus has to be tinted into a darker, more palatable colour. And now that I've discovered which are the cheaper French brands of butter to buy in bulk, I can have French butter most, or at least, more of the time.

All this explains why the buttercream was, of course, white. I was also, though, having a hundreds and thousands infatuation. While I was searching for the best chocolate cupcake in sites like these, I had come across the cutest picture of chocolate ganache cupcakes with old school hundreds and thousands. Something about it triggered a childish memory of eating chocolate frosting (no kidding, I used to eat it out of the Duncan Hines paper jar) with sprinkles at the back of tuition class and suddenly I was craving childish cupcakes.

These ones come pretty close. They were delish and in their small, considerate size, even my health-conscious colleagues reached for one, abstained from scraping off the frosting and didn't ask the guy next to them to share!

Recipe: Caramelized Onions

2009-08-29T21:21:00.006+08:00

One theme I've been thinking about recently is this recurring idea of "Luxe for Less". This concept can be applied to some inexpensive home-made recipes that really take the cake on the store-bought version, or, quick, simple ways that you can jazz up recipes or well-worn dishes.

This is a really simple side dish or garnish that really adds to meat dishes or burgers. What you do is get some red onions (I tend to use 4-5 large ones) and slice them thinly. You can slice them in half, then in thin half-rounds or if you're aesthetically picky, you can slice them all in round onion rings. I tend to make a big batch of this and then freeze the remainder, so when you need an emergency side or garnish for meat, it's already there waiting for you. The way this recipe approximates also makes it a bit hard to make a wee little bit for say, 2 people.

Heat a pan and add a small slice of butter and 3 Tbsp of olive oil (or grapeseed oil, if you prefer). Saute your onion shavings, leaving them to cook and soften in the pan. This can take up to 10-15 minutes if you've crowded your pan. If you have a pan that you've used to sear meat and then deglazed, you can use the same pan for these onions. You can also add thyme or rosemary to your onions if you fancy. This will all add to the flavour absorbed by the onions, which should now have turned wet, transculent and shiny.

Throw 3 heaped soup spoons of white sugar into the onions and stir to distribute. The heat will continue to melt the sugar into the onion mixture. When the sugar has at least partially dissolved, pour in 1/2 a cup (feel free to approximate, depending on how many onions you've used, you may need more or less sugar and balsamic) of balsamic vinegar into the onions and mix again.

As you cook the mixture, the onions will continue to soften, take on a dark hue and the resulting liquid will thicken slightly. The mixture is done, as soon as the vinegar is well distributed and the onions are an even colour. You can either drain away the liquid, or save it for something else. Serve a heapful of this on burger patties or with steak, or pack it like a skin, over a hot roast. Delish!

Just a note, this works with yellow or white onions too but it really actualizes itself with red onions which are sweeter and caramelize better. If you use small red onions, you will probably have to use 8-10 little ones but the trade-off is that the small little rings and dainty shavings are aesthetically very pretty, especially when plated with small-boned meat like frenched lamb rack.

Recipe: Roasted Tomato and Red Pepper Soup

2009-08-24T19:58:00.030+08:00

I am one of the few people I know who enjoys cold soup as much as hot soups. As a result, I am always on the lookout for soups that can be served both warm and cold, such as vichyssoise, gazpacho and so on. The benefit of these soups, apart from their versatility, is that they improve with age, in a way soups like consommes do not, so you can feel good about leaving leftovers.

This recipe is one of Gordon Ramsay's, and unlike a normal tomato soup, this one makes use of red peppers to sweeten the soup, and in order to really enhance the flavours, the peppers (in fact all the fruits and vegetables) are roasted first.

Ingredients (Serves 4)

Olive oil
6 or 7 ripe plum tomatoes
3 large red peppers
1 onion, thinly sliced
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 tsp caster sugar
Basil
Thyme
500ml tomato juice
500ml vegetable or chicken stock
200-300g (8 to 12) baby cherry tomatoes on the vine (optional)

It's worth paying more for beautiful, plump, juicy tomatoes...they don't necessarily have to be on the stem, but I regard that as a sign of freshness. While the locally-grown beef tomatoes may be much cheaper, they tend to be quite sour and even harsh, so I would not recommend using them. Tomato juice is easily found in cans or tetra-paks in supermarkets.

1. Quarter and de-seed the tomatoes

This is important, as it ensures that your soup will be perfectly smooth and lush. I have had many tomato soups which were gritty, and while you can always sieve your soup, it is extraordinarily difficult to remove tomato seeds once they have been blended.

To de-seed tomatoes, simply quarter them, and using a spoon or the tip of your knife, tease out the wet, mushy cores containing the seeds. Do not discard these, but place them into a sieve with a bowl underneath. The watery cores contain lots of tomato juice that you can squeeze out with the back of a spoon (or your hands), leaving the tomato seed and pulp in the sieve but ensuring that you do not waste too much of the sweet, refreshing juices.

2. Quarter and de-seed the peppers

This is not particularly difficult; you may de-seed the peppers any way you think convenient.

3. Pre-heat the oven to 220C.

4. Tip the tomatoes, peppers, sliced onion and garlic into a roasting tin, and lubricate liberally with olive oil (about 4 Tbsp worth). Sprinkle with a handful of fresh thyme leaves, and toss to coat all the ingredients in the oil. Sprinkle with sugar and season with salt.

5. Roast in the oven for 20 to 25 minutes until the tomatoes and peppers are caramelised (but not browned), adding a handful of fresh basil sprigs towards the end of cooking (so they do not char).

6. Tip the roasted vegetables into a saucepan, and add the reserved juice from the tomato pulp you strained earlier, the 500ml of tomato juice and the vegetable/chicken stock. Bring to the boil, and cook for 5 minutes.

7. (Optional) If possible, leave to marinate overnight, as this will really intensify the flavours. If you don't have the time for that, at least wait for the ingredients to cool down before blending them.

8. Blend the ingredients in a blender (in batches).

9. (Optional) To obtain a really smooth soup, sieve the mixture at least once (twice is better).

10. This is what you should end up with: a bright, carroty-orange soup, that should be adjusted to the consistency you desire by adding more stock or tomato juice. Once you're happy with the consistency, you can serve it either warm or chilled.

11. (Optional) To jazz up the appearance of your soup, and to create an interesting flavour/texture contrast, when you're ready to serve, heat up some olive oil in a frying pan and simply place baby cherry tomatoes on the vine (2 or 3 to each person) into the hot oil. Let them sizzle away for a minute or so, then remove them and place them gently into the soup bowls.

The great thing about this soup is that even if you serve it warm at the height of summer (in Singapore that would be about 1pm any day of the week, I guess), it still seems refreshing and zesty, bursting with great flavours: sweetness from the tomatoes, some piquancy from the peppers, and a general sense of satisfaction as you finish the whole bowl.

Review: Forlino

2009-08-24T19:58:00.028+08:00

I've been hearing about Forlino for quite a long time, and its reputation for high-quality Italian fine-dining preceded it, but, sadly, so did reports of its high prices. Thankfully, a special discount gave us the perfect opportunity to sample the set lunch.

The entrance to Forlino is somewhat foreboding, making use of ashen greys and pitch blacks, with solitary lights spotlighting a bureau, or a sculpture, reminiscent of a slightly macabre museum, or a desolate mansion. This is not necessarily a bad thing, however, as the effect is certainly strikingly dramatic.

Entering the restaurant proper is an equally interesting affair: the decor changes to something that would not be out of place in the Schloss Schonbrunn - corridors of blue walls with gilded stuccoes frame chequered floor tiles, achieving a palatial, chiaroscuro effect that one might think slightly out of keeping with Forlino's modern cuisine.

The main dining area is very contemporary though, all darkness and light: black carpeted floors and a plush ebon upholstery absorbing dining room chatter, while floor to ceiling glass panes allow you to enjoy the view of the Fullerton hotel and the city skyline with your meal.

Said meal commenced with an amuse-bouche of marinated cod and micro vegetables. The firm, fresh fish (alliteration unintended) and the melange of salad leaves certainly serve to excite the tastebuds, and hint at more to come.

The wild mushrooms with robbiola cheese fondue and cornmeal polenta followed, which I thought was delectable. Intense, earthy mushroom flavours danced on the tongue and down the back of the throat, while the rich, creamy polenta enveloped the aroma of the funghi, diffusing it across the palate. I could probably have eaten a whole bowl of this without much difficulty.

The second course was an elegant homemade pasta dish: tagliolini with clams cooked in white wine and served with slivers of green chillies. The chillies tasted more like peppers, which added a piquant sweetness to the dish which cut through the umami of the clam sauce.

The meat course was a dish of slow-cooked Wagyu beef cheeks with herbed mashed potatoes. Just what you'd expect: unctuous, almost gelatinous hunks of beef cooked till meltingly tender, paired with a decadent sauce and a hearty mashed potato.

Alternatively, you could have the halibut and asparagus with orange and martini vermouth sauce.

Dessert was a less complicated affair: a molten chocolate cake served with banana gelato and rum sauce. The cake was soft and delicate, giving way to a thick, luscious hot chocolate interior. It's true that molten chocolate cakes are a dime a dozen these days, but they're still delightful when done properly.

It's true that Forlino is not especially cheap (although it gets cheaper if you have certain credit cards), but it's a beautiful restaurant located in a picturesque part of the city, and is a perfect spot for a romantic or special meal. Food is very good, and an extensive menu means you'll be spoilt for choice while being attended to with care and meticulous service: ladies are provided with cute plastic stools on which they can place their handbags, and any requests or inquiries will be discreetly seen to.

Forlino
1 Fullerton Road
#02-06 One Fullerton
Tel: 6877 6995
Website

Review: Oriole

2009-08-24T19:57:00.012+08:00

I'd heard a bit about Oriole and Bedrock Bar and Grill, the new cafe and restaurant opened by the people who started Whitebait and Kale, but it's taken me a while to find an opportunity to try either. Intrigued by the reviews of the hot chocolate at Oriole, I decided to go give it a try.

The two are opposite each other, which I would have thought is a form of cannibalism, but on the bright side, at least there are two more places to have a decent meal in town, which I've long complained suffers from a dearth of venues for a meal.

I rather like the decor in Oriole; the light fixtures in particular are very striking, resembling giant spindly wooden spiders. Generous glass panels allow in a fair amount of natural light, while upholstered booths line the walls, making it a pleasant enough place to while away the afternoon.

Unfortunately, Oriole's drinks do not really live up to their reputation. The latte, hot vanilla, and hot chocolate were all reported to be rather too sweet, resulting in forlorn half-drunk cups being left behind on the table.

The chocolate milkshake wasn't too bad, especially since chocolate milkshakes can handle being over-sweetened, but it's not the best milkshake I've had.

Being boring, I ordered a plate of linguine vongole, which was acceptable, though with some minor cavils: the aroma of the white wine was almost completely dissipated, and a heavy hand with the minced garlic resulted in a fair bit of heat emanating off the dish.

A salad of harissa prawns and chickpeas was not, however, that well-received, as the prawns were tough and harsh, instead of being plumply firm and sea-fresh.

Desserts at Oriole are surprisingly disappointing, with offerings like chocolate brownies and bread and butter puddings, though happily their specials are a bit more attractive. The chocolate tart with vanilla bean ice cream was comfortingly rustic, without unnecessary accoutrements like icing sugar or superfluous flower petals.

All in all, Oriole is still finding its wings, trying to live up to its songbird potential. A good, affordable cafe close enough to the centre of the Orchard shopping district to be a welcome distraction from the hordes, Oriole is worth keeping in mind, if only because TCC and Coffee Bean become monotonous after a while.

Oriole Cafe and Bar
#01-01/05, 96 Somerset Road
Tel: 6238 8348
Website

That buttery, warm feeling....

2009-08-17T09:21:00.007+08:00

Over the last couple years, I'd written many diatribes about supermarkets and grocery prices in Singapore. Alarmed by the rapid rise in price of basic food and dairy prices, I wondered how the average Singaporean was coping and if they were being scammed by grocery companies, which were, the last time I checked, still making healthy profit margins.

Of course, we in Singapore are lucky, there are a multitude of cheap eating stalls and generally, you can still afford to eat well but gradually, it appears that you won't be able to afford to cook. Last week I decided to act upon an idea that had been brewing for a while and, instead of reviewing a restaurant, try to add value as a blogger by reviewing something far more sensible.

My central premise was that all butters are not created equal. But surely, some butters were more economical than others and I wondered, is there a difference between butters? Was it possible to get a good deal? The best balance between taste and price? Which was, for want of a better term, "luxe for less"?

To help me decide this, I recruited three famous bloggers and with some cajoling, and where that failed, brow-beating, persuaded them that they really did want to do a butter test. We tasted 6 butters, all of lower price points and all unsalted versions where available - Greenfields ($1.60 from Phoon Huat), Goldtree ($1.60 from Phoon Huat), Le Petit Normand ($2.80 from Phoon Huat), Cowhead (from NTUC $5.35 for 2), SCS (from NTUC $4.50, $3.80 on special) and Elle et Vire ($3.50 from Sun Lik, $3.16 for 6 or $3.60 for 3 from Shermay, please note this is packed in a 200g as opposed to 250g block).

These prices compare to the creme de la creme butters (literally), at $5.60 (from NTUC) for Lurpak, which was the unanimous favourite amongst all the bloggers and $5.20 (from NTUC) for President. I avoided buying a block of Anchor ($3.70, $3.20 on special at NTUC) because I already knew we all disliked it and made a concession for SCS, even though some had already registered their distaste for its oilyness, only because it's such an iconic Singaporean brand.

Generally, most of the low-range butters that are available in Singapore are from Australia and a couple are from France. The first conclusion is yes, there is a difference between butters, both upon a blind tasting and also when you use them in say, butter cake. I tend to find that the more solid, pale-coloured french butters are in fact, a lot less oily than the darker yellow butters, say like SCS. Your cake tends to be less dense in texture, with flaky granules rather than melted, heavy ones. I also think where the butter is a dominant feature, like in buttercream, there is a rich wholesomeness to using President for a macaron filling and it clearly gives a white, rather than a yellow tint to the cream.

Our notes on the butter tasting were that Goldtree, as I suppose you can expect from its dark yellow colouring and super cheap price, had no taste at all and was declared the worst one. Greenfields had a weird synthetic, very buttery tasting aftertaste, which, although artificial, didn't taste completely out of sync. SCS was also rather buttery, with a similarly oily aftertaste.

The Petit Normand was a lighter tasting butter, somewhat tasteless unfortunately but with the characteristic paleness and sweetness of french butters. Elle et Vire was the best tasting, the lightest and the one that approximated the nuanced flavours that one associates with good quality butter. It was probably the closest proxy for President butter that we had.

So there we have it. Apparently one can buy President when it goes on special and just hoard and freeze it (Lurpak apparently, never goes on sale) but if it were my choice, I guess I would use Le Petit Normand or Elle et Vire (on the 6 piece special price) for my baking. Or maybe skip the mid range altogether and use Greenfields for regular baking and upgrade to President for buttercream!

Macarons: More than a one-trick pony?

2009-08-16T19:01:00.009+08:00

After a tremendous weekend of macaron baking, I was satisfied that I sort of had the technique down. Sure, it wasn't perfect, sometimes they were a little flatter and they still had an annoying granularity that K's macarons seem to be devoid of but they all had happy, thick, luscious feet and they peeled off the paper easy enough and I was feeling pleased with myself.

You would think that would be reason enough to kick up your heels and sit down with a dark chocolate ganache or a salted caramel macaron. But no, Z. had to taste them and say, yes, but how come you always make these same flavours? "That's all I know how" I replied rather haughtily and with as much dignity as an amateur macaroner can be expected to have.

"You are a one-trick pony", he beamed. Well, technically, I was a two-trick pony...or a two-flavour pony, which I suppose, is kind of a zebra. Point taken. With Colin's suggestion that I could try (meaning, I suppose, that he wouldn't mind eating) a passionfruit and milk chocolate macaron ala Pierre Herme and the long weekend ahead, it seemed like a good time for further experimentation.

For a week, I randomly pondered flavours and colours. Could lemon curd be sandwiched in a macaron? How about glace ginger- never mind that I don't even like glace ginger but it seemed a terribly sexy thing to put in your macaron. Green macarons? I'd done green tea before, with chocolate ganache and even with chestnut puree for my cousin when he came down with the mumps but I'd been slightly biased by the pasty, rather musty taste of chestnut and the ease with which it curdled.

Lychee and raspberry?, I texted K. Basil and lime? Raspberry White Chocolate? One late night, it came to me- Rosemary shells with Pineapple Jam, I suggested to K. excitedly. For Chinese New Year! "Too exotic for me, I doubt the old people will like", the answer came back. I guess the symptoms of macaron madness are fairly obvious. I was undeterred. The long weekend rolled around and by the time it did, I grudgingly admitted that coffee buttercream would probably be a good place to start and that no, I had never in my life liked black sesame so I probably shouldn't embark on that.

I didn't understand how I had managed to leave it till months into my macaron experience to make coffee buttercream but truth be told, I was a bit worried about pouring acidic coffee into buttercream. I dissolved the coffee granules and added, for good measure, a teaspoon of Neilson-Massey's beautifully flavourful coffee essence and half a vanilla pod. I needn't have worried, the buttercream swirled into a creamy smooth, speckled coffee coloured mix that was easy on the eye and on the wrist. The reality was I was so concerned, I probably under-flavoured the buttercream, though I discovered the next day that the taste does get stronger as the days go by.

I piped it into hazlenut shells and sandwiched dark chocolate ganache inside the swirl. I also used chocolate shells for the coffee and dark chocolate combination of filling. This found quite a bit of favour with the older people, I noticed, in particular, the men, rather than the women.

In this round, I'd used a french butter, so the lot of buttercream was white. Not wanting to miss my chance, I flavoured it with ginger juice, lemongrass juice, vanilla seeds and grated ginger. Then I piped it into plain shells and buried a small piece of glace ginger within each.

What was left? The rest of the batches were tinted yellow and flavoured with passionfruit juice, which I extraceted by straining the seed (the seeds then went into the lemon-passionfruit curd). Then half were sandwiched with lemon curd and the other half with milk chocolate. This turned out somewhat alright, except that in my zeal, I had put in a couple drops of Nielson-Massey lemon extract, a very bad idea as it overwhelmed the passionfruit juice.

That and the milk chocolate in Singapore tends to be somewhat too thin- I tried this with Valronha milk chocolate from Sun Lik and another round with Valronha milk chocolate from Shermay's Kitchen. Both were very liquid, thin and not terribly sweet nor light in colour. I'm not quite sure why that is but if I can find better milk chocolate, perhaps I'll try this recipe again.

At the end of the day, I had solved some mysteries. I understood that the reason for my grainy macarons was because my sieve was not fine enough and also, my macronage process was not comprehensive enough. But the biggest lesson I'd learnt, is that nobody actually wants to eat ginger macarons and even lemon curd or raspberry white chocolate macarons, oh yes, they have their occasional fan....but most of the feedback, went something like, more dark chocolate ganache ones and no ginger! I guess the reason I'm a two-trick pony is that those are the ones that people actually like!

Macarons: Take 200 and 12...

2009-08-16T18:37:00.006+08:00

I hadn't realized how much I'd been flogging the macaron horse (that sounds really wrong) until today, when Colin lit up upon entering the kitchen, then peered into the mixing bowl where I was creaming some butter and in a crestfallen tone said, "not making macarons"?

Since K's refresher, I've been trying to practice, to keep the wheels of precision and cogs of memory well-oiled. To prevent myself from forgetting or my memory to get stale. But also because it is such a rewardingly aesthetic process. I actually do think I'm improving- these are some strawberry macarons I made, filled with raspberry white chocolate buttercream. I'm especially better when I have the time and isolation to be disciplined and unhurried about the whole thing. I almost think macaron-making is a state of mind and I aim to become unflappable, serene, tranquil in my steps and breathing....still a big step away from where I am now.

"You always give them away" he elucidated reproachfully, as he carefully carried out three on his plate for breakfast, "and then we have so very few left". It's true. How could you not love the aesthetic of macarons? Who could resist looking at them? Seeing the world in one of these lush little packages of almond meal and rich, dark chocolate- it's simple and complex at the same time, yet oh so good.

Hello there, beautiful... Icing a layered cake.

2009-08-16T17:47:00.009+08:00

Most of you would probably have been familiar with my last post about having a craving for the springtime yellow lemon tiered cake that appeared in a Martha Stewart magazine some time back. Even if you had not been, you may have seen my last enthusiastic, slightly ghastly perhaps, attempt. While I was gratified by the height of the cake, I felt that my icing skills could use some work.

The cake turned out a medium yellow, with pale yellow and chrome yellow iced ribbon and some purple daisy and silver dragee decorations. With its lemon poppy seed zing and the flavoured buttercream, it was absolutely delicious but had a bit of a party pop flair to it. A kid's party, that is.

Undaunted I went out, bought a turntable, then proceeded to procrastinate making another cake. The problem was really that the number of steps involved in making a layered cake and then finding an occasion big enough to eat an entire cake, was still such that it remains quite a party trick. First, you have to make each flavour of cake. For this cake, there were two flavours, lemon pound cake and lemon poppy seed cake. You bake each cake in a round cake tin of the same size. then you turn out each cake and slice it evenly into two half rounds.

Then you stack each half alternately onto each other, beginning and ending with the flat bottom of each cake and sandwiching each layer with home-made lemon and passionfruit curd (yes, this is where the excess lemon and passionfruit curd from tarts went to). The next step is to smear some buttercream around the sides of the cake to even out the round shape and then to refrigerate it so that the whole cake sets and the crumbs that inevitably flick off the sides and top of the cake set into the thin layer of cream.

The last step was a few hours later when the cake was relatively hard. This involved softening the buttercream, then smoothing layer upon layer till the whole cake was smoothly and evenly covered with cream. Scraping the remaining cream into a piping nozzle, I made a dam of piped stars along the top and bottom circumference of the cake (all the better to hide my messy icing endings with, my pretty). I could have left it simple and neatly covered, if a little boring looking. The top of my cake had been very well-iced. But I thought, oh, what the hey and added a layer of passionfruit curd on top, then topped the cake with flowers.

When you finally get done messing and smoothing about with your layered cake, there is something immensely satisfying but almost paranoid about the feeling you get. It's a bit like having a child actually, after all your efforts and worries and anticipation, it's a bit overwhelming, almost, to see your expressions and features, but in this case, your aesthetic and crafting vision, take physical form.

Halfway through, I thought- this cake would look so sophisticated, if I iced it in tan-coloured salted caramel cream and then topped it with a circumference of white icing and a topper of white flowers. Or what about pink buttercream with a brown and fuschia flower topper? (I am so excited to get my Sarah Masjid Organic Cakes and Cake Decoration book soon!).

As it was though, the palette of ivory, white and pale yellow made for a very understatedly gorgeous, if a little feminine, cake. The cake was rather thick, it must have stood at a good four and a half inches tall (even though this cake had three layers inside, rather than the previous cake that had four), so I cut each slice fairly thin. It was dense, lemony, sandwiched in lemon passionfruit curd and delicately iced in buttercream. And when I sliced through it, it cut cleanly into three gratifying distinct and beautiful layers. Lots of oohing and ahhing, just as a good party trick should have.

Hard-Core Lemon Passionfruit Cream

2009-08-12T16:59:00.002+08:00

One of the things you learn very quickly, when you live out, is that independence is often overrated. There is no real sense of aspiration that comes from doing your own laundry. However, there are perks too, one of which is that a leisurely breakfast is suddenly a very enjoyable meal and available to you at whatever time of the day you happen to define as morning.

In fact, breakfast might be my favourite meal of the day, a fact masked, perhaps, by my failure to rise early enough anytime during my college years to squeeze in a breakfast before running wildly to class.

Fluffy eggs, ricotta hotcakes, heck, even soft boiled eggs with black sauce and kaya toast, I love them all. One of my favourite things to do, though, is collect the ingredients for breakfast food and surprise everyone in the morning. One of the absolutely necessary ingredients is lemon curd, which is also one of my favourite things to make.

I've often been asked about this recipe, it sounds very complex, perhaps because it involves a "bain-marie" (french for water bath) and blending but it is actually super easy. On this particular occasion, I decided to add some passionfruit to give the curd a more nuanced flavour.

Ingredients:
1 cup sugar
Finely grated zest of 3 lemons
4 large eggs
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 4 to 5 lemons)
2 sticks plus 5 tablespoons (21 tablespoons; 10 1/2 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
Seeds from 1 vanilla pod
2 passionfruits

Process:
1. Place the lemon peel, the seeds from the vanilla pod and the sugar in a bowl and rub the lemon and sugar together with your fingers to infuse the lemon oil from the peel into the sugar. How much sugar you use will determine the overall sharpness of the curd- I like my lemons tart so I use less than the prescribed amount.

2. Crack the eggs into the bowl, add the lemon juice and mix the sugar, juice, peel and egg together. Then place it over a saucepan half-filled with boiling water, as shown in the picture. Place the saucepan to simmer over a small flame on the stove and slowly cook and stir the mixture.

I like to use a glass bowl because the heat is more diffused and regulated. Metal bowls are hot to handle and cook your curd too quickly.

3. The curd will take at least 15 min to cook and thicken. Cook it slowly and stir frequently to keep the curd smooth. It is ready when your spoon or whisk leaves tracks as you stir the curd.

4. At this stage, the curd is ready for use. You can also go on to thicken the curd to lemon-passionfruit cream. If you intend to stop at this point, then you can go ahead and add the passionfruit pulp and seeds in now. The difference in stopping here, is that the curd is more liquid and sharp tasting.

5. If not, cool the lemon curd thouroughly. Then, place the curd in a blender, cut the butter up into small pieces and blend the butter into the cream. It takes about 10 min of blending but what you will see is that as the butter emulsifies the curd, it will get thicker and creamier (though still liquid).

6. Pour out the cream into a bowl, mix in the passionfruit pulp (you don't want to add it before because the seeds would get blitzed in the blender) and refrigerate. During the refrigeration, the cream will become even more firm and solid.

This lemon passionfruit cream has a multitude of uses! I've used it to fill macarons, to make lemon cream or meringue pie and to flavour buttercream for piping on cupcakes. Here, I used them in a healthy way, to complement breakfast pancakes with honeycomb and berries but the curd itself can be packaged as a present, as shown by this clever organic wrapper that Jamie Oliver has come up with.

Apologies, I just realized that we had already posted what else we made with these- the caramelized brulee tarts, so that's a bit anticlimatic but still, try this out at home!

Passionfruit Lemon Brulee Tarts

2009-08-11T16:59:00.009+08:00

Inspired by a lovely brulee tart that I'd had in Australia, I'd set my mind to trying to re-create it. This tart is made of a biscuit-like shortcrust but the one I tried had a flaky texture to it that was even more yummy.

The first step was, I made flaky pastry tart shells and baked them blind, meaning, I weighed them down with beans (you can use pie weights or rice), then baked them so that they would rise but still stay flat and thickly layered.

When they cooled, we chopped up strawberries, layered these at the bottom of the tart and scooped the lemon-passionfruit cream into each. At the last stage, sprinkle white sugar on the surface of the tarts and using a flame torch, sear the sugar till it melts and browns.

These are best eaten when the sugar has just cooled enough to harden. The combination of the warm crackled caramelized surface, the cold tart cream, sweet
strawberry pieces and the savoury flaky pastry is very good. Luckily my cousins were over that day and they helped out!

A word on packaging- I finally got to use the Martha Stewart boxes that I'd bought on sale on her website. The packaging materials, with the thin satin ribbon, coloured circle stickers and patterned parchment paper were so pretty, they were worth hoarding it for a year, I think!

Review: Chalk

2009-08-11T12:43:00.017+08:00

I've been putting off blogging this entry for a number of days (weeks) now because I've been distracted, so I apologise to those who've been anxiously awaiting new updates about where to eat.

Every once in a while, I am reminded of why, for me, dining out is more than just a matter of going out, forking out some money and eating what's placed in front of me. It's true that eating is such a visceral and fundamental part of our being that, to some extent, writing a paean about it seems ludicrous. But if we've turned writing, singing, or some other natural human activity into artforms, why shouldn't the same be true of eating?

In which case, it's not just about the food. Everything from the fall of the tablecloth to the design of the bathroom, and even the blush of falling twilight, comes together in a confluence of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and expectations, well before you've even entered the restaurant or picked up your fork.

One of the places where I've had a bit of an epiphany is Chalk at Old School. I'd never even heard of Old School, on Mount Sophia, and I was pleasantly surprised when I got there. An old Methodist Girls' School has been converted into an arthouse district, complete with independent cinema, a popular bar (Timbre), and a lovely restaurant.

Chalk is a large restaurant, with both indoor seating and an outdoor verandah. Lights are dimmed and tables are spaced far enough that only snippets of neighbouring conversation filter through from time to time. Service is fairly on the ball; waitstaff take the trouble to clearly explain the specials of the day, instead of rapidly mumbling some prepared speech.

As for food, Chef Marcus has brought with him a confident and skilful team, and Chalk is one of the few restaurants that handles both Italian and French cuisine with equal deftness, without collapsing into hopeless confusion. The restaurant also offers tantalising daily and weekly specials; look out for them on the chalkboard.

My starter was a mushroom timbale served with a poached egg and some asparagus. A light, almost creamy mushroom pate enriched by the broken, runny egg yolk and made more interesting when contrasted with crunchy asparagus spears, this dish was not technically complicated, but was executed with straightforward ability - something that sounds simple enough, but is so rarely attained by restaurants.

This theme continued with the main course. A braised duck pappardelle is not, all things considered, a particularly creative or difficult dish (though I must confess I have yet to produce one that I've been wholly satisfied with), but done well it is sublime, and Chalk's version is definitely done well. The helping of pappardelle was just right, the sauce was just the right consistency and the duck leg was braised beautifully. The beans lent colour and texture to a deeply robust dish, providing a nuanced lightheartedness in their unexpected presence.

The other duck/pasta dish on the menu is the duck ravioli with a butter sage sauce, which I didn't enjoy as much, but is something out of the ordinary, served as it is with tiny diced carrots and a lush, smooth sauce perfumed with delicate hints of sage.

Continuing the Italian trend for the evening, the pizza was thin, crusty, and tasty, packed as it was with slices of parma ham, a handful of arugula, and just the right amount of cheese. Pizza aficionados should not be disappointed.

Desserts run the gamut in Chalk: on one hand you have the traditional puddings and souffles, while if you're lucky (depending on how much you like bananas), you might get fried banana fritters with coconut ice cream. I suppose these are essentially goreng pisang, but they went well with the coconut ice cream, which was mild and complementary, without tasting powdery or artificial, as shaved coconut usually does.

For the more traditional dessert purists, there are also classic favourites such as creme brulee, served in a classically shallow dish, maximising the space from which the browned, glistening shell of caramelised sugar winks up at you.

My own dessert was a passionfruit souffle, served with creme anglaise. There is something unabashedly suspenseful about ordering a souffle, part of which comes from it having to be cooked a la minute. The question is always, "was it worth the wait"? Well, Chalk's passionfruit souffle certainly was: towering majestically out of its ramekin, the souffle was airy, not too eggy, and the characteristic sour-sweetness of the passionfruit embedded within every cloudy tuft and bubble of protein.

Another dessert to try is the sticky toffee pudding, which no self-respecting Australian chef leaves off the menu. A rich, pillowy pudding that never feels dense or heavy, glazed over with a thick, unctuous coating of toffee syrup, paired with a creamy vanilla bean ice cream, I imagine the average time before the whole pudding disappears is something like twenty seconds.

It really is back to the Old School philosophy of eating with Chalk, nestled on Mount Sophia: old-style attention to detail in food preparation which results in some truly enjoyable food at generous prices (in their words, "we don't do +++"), meticulous and hands-on service, and a charming ambience. Chalk may not produce mind-boggling high-end gourmet cuisine, but they take acute pride in serving you high-quality, contemporary, tasty and beautiful food that is treated with respect, which is more than can be said for many restaurants that purport to be exclusive or avant-garde. Honest, intelligently and well-cooked food not only respects the dish, but more importantly, the diner, in providing him more than just a meal, more than just fuel for the body, but in engaging him in an unspoken dialogue that whets the appetite, excites the mind, enriches the soul and nourishes the being: in short, a true experience. I can think of no more appropriate restaurant to be commemorating the Old School than Chalk, and I look forward to further offerings from this delightful location.

Chalk
11 Mount Sophia
#01-03 The Old School
Tel: 6883 2120
Website
Closed on Mondays

Review: FiftyThree

2009-08-02T09:40:00.023+08:00

I've noticed that Singapore is starting to display It restaurants, which (at least in relation to It girls) Wikipedia defines as something that "receives intense media coverage unrelated or disproportional to personal achievements", and that the reign of an It restaurant is "usually temporary"; as it either becomes famous in its own right or its popularity fades.

Derogatory overtones notwithstanding, FiftyThree is one of the latest It restaurants that is charming, sexy, and giving diners here lots to talk about - mainly the rather extravagant dinner bill, but also the minimalist decor, the inventive cuisine and the exclusive clientele.

Long wooden tables match the soft, pale stones adorning the walls, and the white orchid centrepieces emphasise the light tones the restaurant intends to evoke. The fish lamp seemed oddly out of place, but the coralstone material the fish were made of at least allowed it to match the walls, though I suspect its inclusion was more sentimental than decorative.

Due to the restaurant's size, FiftyThree does not accommodate very many diners, and this may lead to some awkwardness. You can check the restaurant's website for further details, but we were rather dismayed at being seated at the entrance to the kitchen which, curiously, has no door, resulting in odours from the kitchen wafting over us - not a pleasant experience when you have an important post-lunch meeting. The staff were quite accommodating, however, and managed to move our table some distance away from the kitchen, alleviating, though without eliminating, the problem. Apparently the alcove-like second floor is wonderfully quiet for a long, intimate lunch and very well-spaced. A table upstairs is a good idea unless you are a large group.

The bread "basket" is an unusual affair at FiftyThree. More a gunny sack than a basket, and more muffins than bread, and accompanied by a shallow dish of buttermilk butter sprinkled with oats and barley, there are a few cavills regarding the bread. While I appreciate the effort it takes to warm up the bread and the heat-beads in the bag, this also means it takes the bread quite a while to arrive, which, when coupled with the fact that there are only as many pieces of bread as there are people at the table (give or take a few), and that the waiters are not particularly spontaneous at replacing the bread bags, can be a somewhat rocky start to the meal.

My main complaint about FiftyThree, as will soon become apparent, is that like an It girl, it manifests much potential, but is far too precious for its own good. One example of this that irritates me is that the website has no menu, which makes it exceedingly difficult to remember what precisely it was that I ate, and whether the food this week is different from last week's.

The menu in the restaurant is also unhelpful: I would appreciate more information about my food than the main ingredients it contains. "Broken Hokkaido scallops. Chicken oysters." is a shopping list, not a menu.

But when it comes to the important things, namely, the food, FiftyThree does not disappoint. My starter of sweet, skinned Japanese cherry tomatoes and chilled watermelon cubes, paired with a horseradish foam, was cooling, spicey, invigorating and inspiring, all at the same time. The dish was disarmingly simple, but packed an arsenal of tastes and sensations.

My father had the aforesaid scallops with chicken oysters, the other ingredients remaining anonymous since there is no online menu to cross-reference. Apart from a rather petite serving of scallops, the ingredients worked well together to create a luscious, toothsome whole.

My own rump of lamb was slow-cooked sous vide and pan-seared for flavour, served with finely-sliced discs of beet and turnip. Succulent and tasty, with the right amount of bite and give, this would have been a lovely dish if there had been a bit more of it, but FiftyThree tends to serve smaller portions than you'd expect.

Due to the aforementioned lack of a menu, I cannot remember what exactly these two dishes are, except that the one on the right is a cod dish with what might have been paprika foam.

One of our desserts was FiftyThree's version of the ubiquitous molten chocolate cake, which came studded with nuts and what might have been candied fruit peel. I didn't enjoy this unreservedly, as I thought there was too much going on on the plate: the oozing chocolate, the chewy fruit, the crunchy nuts competed for attention rather than working harmoniously together.

I had the apple risotto with rosemary foam, which turned out to be apple that had been finely diced and caramelised so as to resemble risotto grains. Rosemary seems an unusual herb to use in dessert, but with its pungency diffused, the lemony scent actually worked quite well with the sweetness of the apple. An interesting and creative dessert, this is not something you see everyday.

In addition to the food, FiftyThree boasts an extensive wine list. In fact, only about a fifth of the menu is dedicated to food, which may be attractive to all the oenophiles out there. FiftyThree is definitely going to attract lots of customers with its modern approach to fine cuisine and its rather personalised service, but unless they start being more accommodating and less uptight (and a bit more generous with the portions during lunch), true celebrity may always be just out of reach.

FiftyThree
53 Armenian Street
Tel: 6334 5535
Website
Closed Sundays and Monday afternoons

Old School Recipes: Marble Butter Cake

2009-07-28T16:58:00.004+08:00

In the US, there was a investment term that always made me laugh and that was "back to school". This basically refers to the uptick in consumer demand at Walmart, Officeworks and all manner of department stores because of the September school start. This was seen as an important pre-cursor to Christmas and an indicator of consumer demand and economic health. Some magazines even wrote about how this period, traditionally around this time in the year, was the best time to buy a laptop because of the deals offered. In honour of this, I've come up with a new theme, which I will pursue over the next couple months (until I run out of ideas). This new theme is nostalgic recipes, flashbacks from childhood, like pandan chiffon cake, melamite bowl 50cent canteen noodles, shiny hologramic stickers, Mamee, hopscotch and those plastic tubes of yellow and red ice. Leave a comment and tell us what you remember from school, or what old recipe you'd like to see hunted down and revived.

This is one of the first recipes I learnt, when I was just 6. I have fond memories of a family friend making it in Cameron Highlands (we were on holiday but she decided it wasn't a holiday without a freshly-baked cake straight hot out of the oven, pretty insightful for a girl of just 14).

She'd shopped the area's meagre shops for ingredients and wheedled some equipment from the kitchen. I was the little kid, so when it came to filling the cake tin, she let me drop alternating spoonfuls of the plain and chocolate batter into the pan. That and the versatility of this recipe- it can be made plain or flavoured with coffee or orange rind, are what I've always liked about this recipe.

Ingredients:
250g butter unsalted
225g sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla essence or seeds from a vanilla pod
225g + 2 Tbsp self-raising flour
3 Tbsp dark cocoa (prefably dutch processed Valronha 72%)
1 Tbsp brandy

Process:
1. Preheat your oven to 170C degrees and line a round cake pan (I like the easy slicing of a loaf tin, so that's what I use).
2. This is a classic creaming recipe, meaning that you cream butter and sugar together in an egg beater, until it is light, pale and fluffy. For this recipe, you would want to use a good quality butter as it is a main ingredient.
3. Add the eggs one at a time. Add the seeds from one vanilla pod or a tsp of vanilla essence.
4. Sift the flour, salt and baking soda into the mixture.
5. Pour in the brandy and mix quickly. You may be tempted to skip the brandy, especially if there are children eating the cake but don't! The alcohol burns off, leaving a beautiful nutty, savory-moist crumbly texture to your cake.
6. If you are making a plain cake, you can bake it as is. If not, then add the flavouring, like 3 heaped Tbsp of grated orange rind. For marble cake, seperate a third of the batter and mix it through with dark cocoa powder. Then, drop spoonfuls of the cocoa and plain batter alternately in the cake pan. If you are a purist, run a chopstick through the length of the pan to "marble" the colours, or if you like a cow-coloured marble cake like mine, then don't!
7. Bake at 170 degrees for 45 min. If the top of your cake is cooked, cover it with some alumninium foil (so that it stays tender, rather than burnt) and continue with the rest of the cooking time. Turn the cake out after cooling and serve warm for tea with milk or coffee!

Announcement: Winners of the Vanilla Bean Giveaway!

2009-07-28T10:38:00.009+08:00

Big Hearty Congratulations to the following:

Stefanie Chao, for her entry of Vanilla bean cupcakes with Vanilla, Earl Grey and Citrus frosting. I think I speak for myself and Colin when we say we look forward to trying some of your products!

Joyee, who intends to make custard choux pastry- that one got me in the heart, given that even after attending Chef Pang's class on choux pastry I am inept at making it. I would be most pleased to see your tutorial on the process of your recipe.

Lydia, who said Panna cotta, Bailey's cheesecake or Vanilla shortbread, sounds very yummy...I can smell that cheesecake already!

Jia, for her entry of Vanilla Macaroons. We are about to post an entire saga of macaron adventures, so we would love to see yours!

And last but not least Dorothy, for being quick off the buzzer and tempting us with her home-made vanilla ice cream.

We will be in touch shortly to send you your prize, or if you are reading this, you can leave us a comment here as well about getting in touch. Please remember that the winners are obliged to send us a guest post (written in Microsoft Word or email format with attached pictures) about what they have done with the vanilla beans. We will leave it on good faith that you will do so and look forward to seeing and showcasing on the blog, all these great products!

Review: Soprano

2009-07-25T20:46:00.016+08:00

It is sometimes a great pity that restaurants that garnered good reviews, like the Cicada, close down before I ever get round to trying them.

It is an even greater pity when the restaurants that replace them are probably not as good, as I discovered when dining at Soprano, an Italian restaurant run by the same owners of Donna Carmela at Greenwood Avenue, and which has taken over the premises of The Cicada at Portsdown Road.

Soprano actually has a lot going for it: it looks beautiful at night amidst the dense darkness of Portsdown, and the owners keep the business all in the family, so they're affable and will make you feel right at home.

That explains why the place was pretty packed on a Sunday evening, which contributed to the somewhat pervasive warmth within the restaurant. I suspect that none of the numerous air-conditioning units was actually switched on, resulting in some very still air.

Soprano is let down the most by its food, however. It's true that they claim to offer rustic, homely Italian food, but standards are standards.

I was intrigued by the various nibbles brought out together with the bread: pickled pearl and red onions, as well as mushrooms, served as old fashioned amuse-bouches to whet the appetite before dinner.

Dinner, however, was not particularly satisfying. Soprano offers a number of variations on bresaola, and I had the one that came with mushrooms, which turned out to be a pate-like mushroom paste that smothered the raw beef. In terms of presentation, this was not the most attractive of dishes, and in terms of taste, it was not particularly spectacular either.

Soprano has an amazing array of pastas, from the traditional spaghettis to the exotic, ear-shaped orecchiettes. Sauces are not always changed correspondingly, however, though as you'd expect, not all pastas are paired with the same sauces. The crab ravioli comes with a chunky tomato sauce, though a sweeter, cream-based tomato sauce may have been more luscious.

My squid ink linguine vongole was a great disappointment. First, the pasta was not fresh, which is deadly when it comes to squid ink - the noodles simply tasted stringy and bouncy (rather like a bowl of Chinese noodles). Second, I suspect the clams came from a can, or else the restaurant has a very poor supplier: there was almost no meat to be had from any of the shellfish, as the picture very clearly reveals. Sad little flecks of clam-flesh were all that could be teased out of the shells. Finally, when I requested for chilli to be omitted, I was informed that the chillis they used were not spicey, so imagine my chagrin when peeking up at me from under a clam were sliced chilli padis, which most certainly are spicey (50,000 to 100,000 on the Scoville scale).

Soprano is so new that they haven't had time to change Cicada's website, so a Google search for "Cicada Restaurant Singapore" still returns "http://www.thecicada.com.sg". Hopefully by the time they get around to updating the website they'll also have looked into improving the food.

Soprano
7 Portsdown Road
Tel: 6472 2100
Opening Hours: 12 noon - 2.30pm, 6pm to 10.30pm